Legal Guardian
by twilight darling
Summary: PostHBP. Because, in all your selfrighteousness, you will raise my child as your own. I am not asking for redemption, Granger. I know I will die. I want my daughter to live a good life. This document will verify that I named you her legal guardian.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

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Legal Guardian 

Chapter 1

A piece of parchment fluttered onto the ground and landed beside Harry's foot. The messenger was already gone as silently as it had come.

_Tomorrow, meet me in the Shrieking Shack at midnight with Granger and no one else. No Weasleys. _

Harry rubbed his temples; a headache was lurking in the darkness. The Final Battle was at its climax. People were dying. Fields of green were not stained with blood and rotting corpses. St. Mungo was overwhelmed with victims of mental torture. Both sides' forces were dwindling. The end was near and everyone knew. Only one Horcrux and Voldemort remained. But they had yet figured the last Horcrux.

Hermione was closed to pulling her hair out from the puzzle. She simply could not decipher the patter of Voldemort's Horcruxes. It was obvious that the founders remnants were destroyed including the elusive locket that took several years of digging and runes translation.

A small boy of fifteen came into Harry's room. "Do you need something, sir?"

Did he call Arnold in? He must have but he could not remember. Harry rubbed his neck to relieve himself of the kink. "Yes, Arnold. Tell Hermione to come see me, don't alert Ron, he needs rest after the last raid," Harry waved his hand wearily at the boy, "Oh, Arnold. Stop calling me sir. You can call me Harry."

"Yes, sir." Arnold was gone before Harry could turn around.

He sighed. He supposed it was because of Arnold's father. He heard from Hermione that Arnold's father was in the navy. He took off his glasses and cleaned it with his shirt.

"Harry. You really should get some sleep." Hermione turned and knocked the door with an advanced charm and alarm spell. It was routine.

"I can't, Hermione," Harry grumbled, "I can't stop thinking about--"

Hermione placed her hand firmly on his shoulder. He turned his face up to look at her. Dark circles marred her pale face and her eyes were bloodshot. There were dirt blended into her face and her hair was a tangled mess that hugged her chin. He remembered how she was caught underneath a boulder when they were escaping the cave where the locket was hidden. A portion of her hair and her left arm was wedged in between two rocks. Harry cut her hair with quick, decisive chops with his knife and Ron carefully slid her arm out. It took forever for her arm to heal; even now, numerous scars marred her skin.

Out of habit, Hermione tucked a strand of stray hair behind of ears. "Why did you ask me to come here?" she spoke softly and leaned closer over his shoulder to read the note.

"Should we go?"

Her eyebrows furrowed in a way that is distinctively Hermione and sat down next to him. "It could be a trap."

"I know," he signed and ruffled his hair in frustration.

"But this is our chance to end the war now."

"I know."

"If we keep going, the chances of winning this war get slimmer and slimmer by the second," she leaned her head on his shoulder. "It has been five years." Her voice cracked.

"I know." He rubbed her arm. He thought of all the screaming and crying, all the graves and dirt, all the blood and scars. "I know, Hermione."

"Do you know who wrote this?"

"No."

A sleepy silence permeated the room.

"We should go."

"Hermione, this could be Voldemort's trap."

"I know, but we are desperate. We can't afford to lose anymore." A tear escaped her hold.

Harry squeezed her hand. "We will go tomorrow then."

Hermione wordlessly nodded.

The two friends stayed like this until dawn with her leaning on his shoulder.

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

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**Legal Guardian**

**Chapter 2**

Hermione shuffled into Harry's room as he filled his pockets with anything that might be of help to them, most of them were George and Fred Weasley's invention. She suddenly remembered that Fred was still in critical situation with chances of losing his legs.

"You ready?"

"What should we tell Ron?" Hermione glanced at the door, almost expecting Ron to come bursting through.

"Nothing. We tell him nothing. Let him sleep."

"He will be so angry," she mumbled as she tugged her cloak closer to her body. "Did you talk to Ginny?"

"No." Harry shrugged his robe over his sweater and pants and reached for his cloak.

"Harry, you need to talk with Ginny," she said exasperatedly, "You can't avoid her forever."

"No, not forever," he replied absentmindedly, "But I can avoid it until after the war."

"Harry--"

"Hermione, can we not talk about this right now? I know you are nervous."

She sputtered. "And you aren't?"

"Of course, I am."

"But what else can we do?" Hermione finished. "Here, it might come in handy. I presumed that you know how to use it" She handed him a gun.

Harry's eyes widened briefly before tucking the handgun into his pocket. "You have one, also?"

"Yes." She patted her side as an indication.

"How did you get pass Mad Moody? You know how anal he is about the muggle weapons."

"I didn't," she raised an eyebrow at Harry. "I was in charge of the transaction. I took two of the handguns and several dozens bullets just in case."

Harry stared at his shoes intently as he tied the lace. "Five years, huh? What a change."

"Indeed," she replied.

"Maybe the _person_ underwent some changes too." He jerked his attention toward the note lying placidly on the table.

"Maybe," she glanced at her watch, "We should go."

"You have the portkeys?"

"Yes. There is no way to track us with all the locations we are jumping to." She opened plastic bag and jostled the trinkets around. "The last portkey will land us somewhere near Hogsmeade and we will walk from there."

"Hogsmeade was taken over though," Harry tapped one of the large red X that's on map covering the table, "Dementors should be flowing around." A barely noticeable shiver went through his spine.

Hermione opened her hand and reveals several large bars of chocolate. "Come on, Harry."

He tucked the mysterious note in his pocket and took out another parchment and turned to Hermione. "A note for Ron just in case."

She nodded and took out a tattered teddy bear. Harry raised an amused eyebrow. "Be quiet, Harry."

And they were gone.

After several successive feeling of something yanking at the guts and transporting to another location, Hermione was glad to be standing on solid ground for more than five minutes. Harry grabbed her hand and deftly pulled her out of the street.

"I still prefer good old transportation," Hermione mumbled as Harry fumbled for his Invisibility Cloak.

"Where are the Dementors?" Harry hissed.

She peeked at the desolated streets and broken shop windows. "No one. I think Voldemort is planning something. This should be heavily guarded especially being so close to Hogwarts," she whispered, "Harry, what if this is only to divulge our attention. What if they figure out the location of the headquarter. What if--" Hermione stopped herself.

Harry brandished the cloak from the darkness of his pocket and ignored Hermione's moment of hysteria. He lifted the cloak for Hermione and they scuffled in the direction of the Whomping Willow.

Hermione quickly performed a quiet charm for their shoes as they trudge through dry, dead leaves littered across the ground. She remembered the Hogsmeade weekends. Harry and Ron would fill their mouths with sweets and she would always buy a new book for some pleasure reading.

At this time in the year, third years would be running through the dead leaves, taking in their chance for brief freedom from schoolwork and professors. Around this time of the year, the leaves would still be falling in their iridescent shades of oranges and reds. She quickly wiped her eyes.

Harry squeezed her hand; he understood. He could also see the third years. He could also see his abysmal date with Cho. He could also see himself sneaking into Hogsmeade in his Invisibility Cloak and gave Malfoy a good scare. They stopped.

The Whomping Willow seemed larger for some reason but it was still the same. It already sense intruders.

"Harry, quick," Hermione hissed.

Harry mumbled an elongation charm and his wand suddenly grew. He tapped the knob and the tree stopped moving.

He remembered Sirius and the overwhelming joy when Sirius offered to be his legal guardian. He remembered the Dementors and his Patronus. He remembered the despicable rat fleeing into the forest because he was too lenient. He didn't realize that he was also frozen in place with his memories and anger until Hermione tugged on his arm.

"I know, Harry. I miss him too." And she disappeared into the Whomping Willow. Harry followed after a brief glance at Hogwarts, once his home and his sanctuary, now in the palm of Voldemort.

Hermione dusted the dirt from her cloak. "_Lumos_." A soft, glowing light perched at the tip of her wand. "Harry." She searched for his hand.

"I am here," he grunted from his fall and reached for the faint outline of Hermione's hand. He took his wand out and led the way to the Shrieking Shack. "You will never get over your fear of the dark, huh?"

"Shut it, Harry," she shot back playfully. Only a few people knew of her fear of the dark. She hated dark places even in Hogwarts; she made sure that she always walked with a torch or her wand.

"Why _are _you afraid of the dark, Hermione?" They turned and the hallway got steadily steeper.

Hermione glanced behind her at the absolute nothingness and immediately whirled her eyes to focus on Harry's back. "It is the not knowing what's out there that scares me," she whispered softly. "It is like a boggart. It can be your worst fear and the worst part is that you can't see it. You can't confront it because you are not even sure what it is. Aren't you afraid, Harry?"

Harry turned to look at her illuminated face. "Yes. I am afraid of a lot of things." He was suddenly lost in the images of his life from his multiple encounters with Voldemort and traumas of puberty.

Hermione stepped in front of Harry and tugged him along. They stopped in front of the dead end and looked up. "We are here." The last time that they were here Harry found out that his parents were actually murdered by Ron's rat. "It's okay, Harry." Hermione gave Harry's hand one last squeeze before releasing it. She extinguished her wand as Harry pushed against the square of wood.

A creak resonated in the hallway.

Harry quickly climbed out of the opening and reached for Hermione's hand while watching his surroundings. The Shrieking Shack did not change. A thick film of dust covered the furniture and floor. The broken chairs and torn-up sofa remained. The fireplace was hearty with warmth and light.

Someone was already here.

Hermione closed the opening gently and glanced around warily. She also noticed the surprised warmth and light. Shadows danced in accordance of the healthy fire.

"Where is he?"

"Or she," she added. She held her wand up; ready for attack, and her other hand was deep in her pocket, gripping onto the handgun.

"Granger, I suggest that you take your hand out of your pocket," a familiar voice drawled.

Harry and Hermione pivoted and found a figure donned in complete black at the doorframe. He (the voice was distinctively male) was holding a bundle in his arms and his hood obscured his face.

She did take her hand out of her pocket but with the handgun in her hand. "Who are you?"

"Pity, you don't recognize your old friend anymore," the figure took a step closer; his hood cast a dark shadow across his features. "How about you, Potter?"

Harry frowned at the familiar voice and the familiar drawl but his attention was drawn toward the bundle the figure held in his arms.

The figure shifted the bundle closer to his body when he noticed Harry's glance. "Don't think too hard, Golden Boy, or your brain will bust."

Hermione's eyes lit up in recognition and she gripped the handgun harder. "Malfoy."

"Ay, always the smart one." Malfoy shook his hood off, revealing his trademark platinum hair.

Although not dirty or messy, Malfoy's appearance was less that immaculate which Hermione found odd. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and his chin was covered with stubbles. His hair was cut short and his bangs falls freely into his eye. He smirked revealing his pearly whites.

Harry stepped forward. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Why don't we start with what you want?" Malfoy sneered. It was almost like they were back at Hogwarts slinging petty insults at each other. "How is Creevey doing?"

Harry lunged forward but Hermione stopped him. She turned her angry eyes at Malfoy. "Near death." Colin Creevey was found in an alley in northern England unconscious and beaten. His skin was in a dreadful shade of purple and green. He had been coughing up buckets and buckets of blood since some Light patrols found him.

"He was stupid enough to think that he could take pictures of our strategy plans without being found," he arched an elegant brow at Harry's bubbling anger and Hermione's glare. "I suggest that you put the gun away, Granger, or Creevey will die."

Her mouth dropped. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I have the antidote to Creevey's poison. It is ingenious. The poison does dreadful things to human's blood."

Hermione put the handgun away. "What do you want, Malfoy?" She spat his name out with hatred.

"You be careful who you are speaking to, mudblood."

Harry was shaking with fury. "Malfoy, what is the point of this meeting?"

"An exchange," Malfoy glanced at the bundle in his arms and shift it again. "I will give you the whereabouts of the Dark Lord and the last Horcrux."

Harry's eyebrows disappeared under his mob of hair. "For what in exchange?"

"I want to be completely exonerated."

"What?" Hermione gaped. "That is impossible. People saw you killed, Malfoy."

Malfoy glanced at her with an amused smirk. "If I am a spy, I will be completely exonerated."

"But you are not!" She was turning red with anger and indignation while Harry pondered at the proposal.

"I do believe handing the Dark Lord and the last Horcrux is consider to be an action of a spy. If you lose the last battle, you lose the war. For someone who is suppose to be smart, you are incredibly draft, Granger."

"Why?" Harry looked squarely into a pair of stone gray eyes. "Why now when you never showed any signs of switching sides?"

"Things change, Potter," he shifted the bundle again. "Especially when you are a father."

Both Harry's and Hermione's eyes bulged out. Father? "What are you trying to say, Malfoy?"

Malfoy glared at Harry condescendingly. "Are you _that_ stupid, Potter? Do I need to explain the meaning of father to you?"

"What does being a father have anything to do with the exoneration of the your name, Malfoy?" Hermione took a step closer.

"I also want you to take care of my daughter."

Hermione looked as if she had just been shock with a lighting bolt. "What?" she shrilled. She didn't realized how loud she was until the bundle in Malfoy's arm began to fuss.

"Granger, I just lulled her to sleep. Keep your voice down," he snapped. Suddenly, Malfoy's angry countenance was smoothed away as he turned his attention to fussing child. He proceeded rocking the baby in his arms and murmuring incoherent words.

If her jaw could drop any lower, it would have. Harry was stunned. Hermione resembled a bug-eyes goldfish.

She watched Malfoy gently bounced the baby in his arms while humming some unfamiliar melody. He shifted his weight leg to leg and rocked his arms back and forth. She turned to look at Harry who was just as shocked as she was. They both stared at Malfoy as if Ron just waltzed in with a pink tutu and lipsticks.

When the baby finally stopped fussing and Malfoy stopped mumbling, Harry and Hermione regained their composure. Malfoy turned his attention to the two Gryffindors. The caring and loving look in his eyes was gone as his stone cold eyes watched them like a hawk.

Hermione coughed. "You want us to take care of your…"

"Daughter," Malfoy resumed his easy drawl, "A memory problem?" He arched a patronizing brow.

She ignored the insult. "And you want your name exonerated just for an antidote."

He smirked and took his time fixing the folds of his robes and the baby's blanket. "That's not enough?"

"Malfoy, you know it is not enough."

He raised his eyes to hers. "And I thought you were the caring bunch."

"Cut the crap, Malfoy," Harry snarled impatiently.

"Watch your language, Potter," Malfoy snapped back. "I told you, I would hand you the Dark Lord and the last Horcrux."

"How?"

"I will tell you when the plans are finalized."

Harry gave Hermione a questioning look. _Can we trust him?_

"Malfoy, how can we trust you?"

The ex-Slytherin glared toward them. "You can make the exonerating declaration after you defeat the Dark Lord. It should be apparent then that I switched side," he glanced at the baby with a soft expression. "And you will have my daughter." He watched Golden Boy and the Know-It-All conversed with each other in meaningful glances and the tautness of their jaws. He stroked his daughter's cheek absentmindedly and allowed himself to soften his smirk into something that resembled a miniscule smile.

They turned their attention back to their arch-nemesis.

"Before you answer, there are conditions."

Hermione gripped Harry's arm and prevented him from bursting forth with indignation.

"Nothing spoken in this room may be repeated to anyone else. Therefore, no one can know that I gave you my daughter under these circumstances or else she will be danger. I want Granger to take of my daughter and no one else. My daughter will remain a Malfoy; no name change."

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Won't she still be in danger if people know that she is a Malfoy?"

"People will only think you took the child out of the goodness of your heart." The last part was laced with bitterness and scorn. "As long she is under the care of the heroine of war and best friend of the Boy-Who-Refused-To-Die, she will be safe."

"Hermione," Harry said softly, "You don't have to agree to this."

She glanced at Malfoy as he pore his eyes into her soul and remembered the way Malfoy looked at his child. Hermione turned to Harry and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's fine, Harry."

Malfoy almost wanted gagged at the scene in front of him. The sickening camaraderie between the two friends was sickening. It was overwhelming with love and concern. He looked at his daughter. At least, it would be something that she can experience. Something he would never understand and never know. With one arm carrying his baby, Malfoy waved his wand and a scroll appeared.

"I need to talk to Granger alone."

Harry was about to protested when Hermione simply nodded and stand forward. Harry shuffled to the other side of the room, out of hearing range.

"Yes? Malfoy." She was eager to see his baby but she reigned in her apprehension and impatience.

"I've already created an account for her at Gringotts. She is wearing a necklace with a key. She is also wearing a Malfoy's heirloom—a necklace with the family ring. I want her to keep wearing it; it protects the wearer from certain harms. And--" He stroked the baby's cheek again.

If she squinted a little and tilted her head, she could almost some resemblance of human emotions in Malfoy. "Malfoy, don't you think it would be better for her mother to take care of her?"

He did not look at her. "Pansy is dead."

There were rumors that Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were married two years ago but everything was so chaotic that no one cared. Ministry of Magic was a mess and everyone was just scrambling to stay alive.

"How about her family? The Parkinsons?"

It was a well-known fact that Ron Weasley killed Lucius Malfoy in blind rage after Hermione was discovered half-dead at the Malfoy Manor even Harry could not stop Ron. The whereabouts of Narcissa Malfoy were unknown. It was rumored that she was one of the human sacrifices used to sustain Voldemort's dwindling life.

Malfoy let out a bark of wild laughter. "If they are not dead by the end of this, they would be captured. Even if they survived the trials, my daughter will simply be a tool for them to get into the Malfoy's fortunes."

"Why me?" Hermione asked the question that had been pestering since the proposal.

"Because, in all your self-righteousness," he sneered and then soften into a low tone, "You will raise my child as your own."

"B-but," she faltered. "I am a mud-muggleborn." Her eyes stung; she could not believe how she almost called _herself_ that foul name.

Malfoy turned away from her moment of distress and stared into the sleeping face of his daughter. "Granger, have you ever have to deliver a live? It was just after a raid. Our forces were almost cut in half. We dispersed and Pansy went into labor. I was the only one there. Pansy was screaming like a banshee. She lost too much blood and died almost immediately after the birth." He didn't even realize that his hands were shaking. "The ironic thing was the next day, I saw a muggleborn go into labor. It was as if the gods were shoving something into my face. Someone crushed the newborn under his foot before she, the baby was a girl, even finished her first cry."

She gasped.

"I told everyone that Pansy died and the baby was stillborn."

"Malfoy, I--"

"I am not asking for redemption, Granger. I know I will die. I want my daughter to live a good life. Life filled with all the stuff that you read about in children's books. She will be well provided for. She is a Malfoy and everything that has the Malfoy's name on it will be hers once she turns seventeen. The document will verify that I named you as the legal guardian."

"Kayleigh Aquila Gladiolus Malfoy." Hermione said as she perused the document. "That's a mouthful."

"Aquila, constellation of an eagle. Gladiolus, the flower of August."

"Kayleigh?"

Malfoy's mouth tightened into a thin line before answering, "The woman's last wish."

"What?"

"The Muggleborn's child," he snapped, "Before she died, she wanted to named her baby Kayleigh."

"Oh."

A pregnant silence dragged on.

Malfoy broke the silence, "Granger, you need to sign the document."

Hermione glanced at his expression and the bundle in his arms. She thought of Tom Riddle and Harry. She thought the several thousands of children in orphanage. She thought of the power that this little child possessed because of her name. Kayleigh could become the rallying point for future outbreaks but if Hermione raised her then she would love her as if Kayleigh was her daughter. She exhaled sharply.

She signed the document. A tiny voice in the corner of her mind wondered what she is getting into. Sudden realization hits, she was going to take care of Malfoy's baby. She gripped the quill harder than she should and it snapped.

Malfoy raised his eyebrow but did not say anything about his snapped quill. He took out a dagger.

Harry who was watching from the side immediately jumped in.

"Calm down, Potter. This document requires blood to seal it."

This was serious. Hermione dropped the broken quill onto the ground.

"Granger, if you want to back out, say so now," his gray eyes reflect the dancing flames, "After this, there is no turning back. If you are not willing to take care child, say so now."

"Can I hold her?" she asked softly, almost timidly. Malfoy watched her warily and slowly placed Kayleigh in Hermione's arms. The baby shifted and scrunched her face in an absolutely adorable way but did not wake up.

Something in Hermione's heart just melt. The baby fit perfectly in the cradle of her arms. A sudden instinctive, maternal feeling overwhelmed her. "Harry, can you hold her?" her voice cracked from the mammoth amount of emotions coursing through her veins. Malfoy looked as if he wanted to tackle Harry for touching his daughter.

"Let finish it, Malfoy."

He held out his hand and Hermione place her hand palm up in his hand. He sliced cleanly across her palm; Hermione barely winced. Malfoy looked at the blood curiously before shaking his head and glided the blade across his palm. Palm to palm, the blood dripped onto the floating parchment.

The parchment glowed green and the glow disappeared.

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	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 3

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An owl tapped furiously against the window and a cat yowled disgruntling, tracing its orange eyes on its flying nemesis. 

"Coming, coming," a sleepy voice grumbled. Hermione nudged her cat out the way and Crookshack yowled and went to sulk in his plushy corner.

Hermione fumbled with the latch and finally opened the window. An indignant owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on the breakfast table. She reached for the spare coins and dropped them in the owl's porch and the owl was gone. Hermione tried to smooth her hair out of her eyes in vain. Instead, she turned her attention to her freshly brewed coffee.

"Praise the coffee gods," she mumbled as she sucked in the steaming aroma of coffee. She snuck a glance at the baby monitor. The green light remained unlit. She flipped the _Daily Prophet_ open, savoring the moment of peace and silence.

**January 8th is declared national holiday**

By Lucille Fairground 

_Diagon Alley—Minister of Magic, Mr. Arthur Weasley, declared January 8th as the Day of Light in celebration of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's defeat and final demise. The Minister was adamant concerning the brighter future of the wizard world. After a brief deliberation with his Council, a newly ratified group of advisors under the Minister, an official document is drafted. It will be officially signed on March 8th, two months after the Final War ended when Harry Potter defeated He-Must-Not-Be-Named and Draco Malfoy-- **A3 **_

Harry Potter, the Puddlemere United's seeker By Georgia Delano Harry Potter, honored hero of the Final War, had just recently signed with the Puddlemere United. Puddlemere United is the oldest English team in the Quidditch league and was formed in 1163. Oliver Wood, who was the captain of the Gryffindor team at Hogwarts, is the Reserve Keeper and is excited to be working with Harry Potter again. **B4**

Just as Hermione finished the last drop of her coffee, the green light suddenly glowed and a shrill wail resonated in her neat and tidy apartment exactly as she finished her last drop of coffee. She quickly rinsed her mug and walked to the crib situated next to her bed.

Hermione reached into the crib and took out a squirming baby. Kayleigh immediately stopped crying after she realized that she was being carried toward the kitchen. Hermione snatched the already warmed bottle of milk off the counter and tilted the bottle. The baby eagerly sucked the bottle and stared at the bottle intently.

"If you keep doing that, you might go crossed eye." Hermione mumbled.

Kayleigh was a beautiful baby. The combination of gray-blue eyes and honey blond hair was striking. If one was to look closely, he could see the resemblance between the baby's father and the baby. Kayleigh had fair complexion, sharp gray eyes, and an aristocratic nose that Hermione remembered too well was always stuck up in the clouds. The only thing that was not quite Malfoy was the hair. It was not as fair and blindingly obvious as her father's.

A loud crack distracted Kayleigh momentarily but she turned her attention back to her bottle when she found nothing of her interest.

"Sorry for being late, Hermione," Harry ruffled his hair out of habit and pushed his round spectacles up his nose.

Hermione shifts the baby into a more comfortable position. "Kayleigh just woke up. I packed the diapers. I prepared her bottles. A simple warming charm should do the trick. Oh, be careful, she is starting to roll over so keep an eye on her."

"Hermione, I have done this before. Anyway, Ginny is over." He grinned in a goofy way.

"Oh, if you wanted to spend a day with Ginny, why didn't you tell me?" cried Hermione while trying not to upset Kayleigh. "I would've asked for a baby sitter or something. You guys need sometime alone and be all lovey dovey with each other."

"Don't worry, we were lovey dovey yesterday," he winked and laughed at Hermione's horrified face.

"Harry Potter, you watch what you say around Kayleigh," she scolded halfheartedly. She could almost feel twinge of envy.

Harry leaned over Kayleigh and gave Hermione a peck on her cheek. "Yes, madam." He scooped Kayleigh out of Hermione's arms while holding the bottle in place.

Kayleigh frowned as she sucked her bottle.

"I will be back later," Hermione cooed and gave the baby a quick peck on the cheek. "You remember Uncle Harry and Auntie Ginny. Be good."

"Hermione, she will be fine. I think Ginny is ready to lavish Kayleigh with all her maternal might."

"When are you going to pop the big question, Harry?"

Harry flushed crimson. "I just got a contract with Puddlemere United and she is busy at St. Mungo."

"Harry, Harry," she clucked at him fondly while fixing her cloak, "She has been waiting for so long. Ginny Weasley is born to be mother of a dozen children as mischievous as Fred and George. You better marry her and have little red heads soon or she will spoil my daughter rotten. Give _her_ little babies to coo over."

"Her-mi-one," whined Harry. "Tell your mommy to be quiet, Kay. Go on tell her."

Kayleigh stared at Harry's carrot-red face curiously.

Hermione plucked empty bottle out of Kayleigh's hand and rinsed the bottle. "Honestly, Harry," she took on a more serious tone, "Ginny is not going to wait for you forever. And don't turn my daughter against me, Harry."

Harry grinned. "Crazy, huh? Your daughter? Who would have guess?" Kayleigh took a strange interest in Harry's hair and gave it a mighty jerk. "Ow."

"Yes, who would have guess?" Hermione mumbled softly. She watched her child, Malfoy's child, torturing Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived-and-Won, with her unwavering grip. It was so ironic. She shook herself. "Harry, you are going back by Floo right? Apparating with a baby is so dangerous. And be careful when you are flooing! Make sure you cover her face or she will inhaled a whole much of dust and you know how much she hates that."

"Hermione," Harry said firmly. "Calm down. Take a deep breath. Kayleigh will be fine. You will be fine, too. But are you sure you want to go today?"

"Yes, Harry. I have been meaning to go…" she trailed off.

"Then go," he assured gently, "Arthur gave you a pass. Even if you don't go, think of this as your day off. No paperwork. No adorable, crying baby." He nuzzled his nose to Kayleigh's cheek for good measure. The baby giggled.

"I wished Ron was as accepting as you," she sighed.

Harry looked at Hermione's solemn eyes. "Hermione, Ron will learn to deal. Although, it would help if Kay doesn't cry whenever Ron is around. And don't worry Ron is swamped with work right now. I think he is dealing with some kind of illegal dragon eggs dealing."

"Harry, thank you."

He gave her peck on the cheek and grabbed a handful of Floo powder. "84 Godric's Hollow."

She sighed as Harry disappeared with her baby in a poof smoke. It almost felt too normal. Hermione grabbed the note that Arthur gave her and slid it into her pocket.

She took a handful of floo powder.

"St. Mungo."

* * *

"Level 4, please." She sank her hands deep into her pockets and her right hand gripped the piece of parchment with the Minister of Magic's signature. 

A crisp voice responded to her request. "Level 4 is a restricted section of St. Mungo, ma'am. I need you to place your wand and your written pass down the slot to your right."

Hermione followed the direction and waited. An eagle quill and a scroll of parchment appeared in front of her.

"Ms. Granger, room 216 is the last room in the corridor. Your wand will not be returned to you until you exit the room. You will be required to go through a scan for any sort of suspicious items. The maximum time slot is five hours if you stayed more than five hours you will be automatically rejected from the room and you pass will be invalidated. No contact with the patient should be made at any time under any circumstances short of a life-threatening emergency. Understand that this is for your and the patient's safety. For more information, please, peruse the document in front of you. By signing with this quill, you consent to the regulations and limitations of this visit." The clear, impersonal voice finished.

She glanced at the long parchment with neatly written words crowded into paragraphs. Her heart beat erratically against her ribcage. Hermione paused to clear her mind of lingering doubts and ignored whatever cryptic messages her heartbeats was trying to send.

She signed her name.

The doors slid open and a dauntingly long corridor appeared. Her shoes seemed to be thunder against the tiled floor.

Room 216 at the end of corridor. The door was under heavy wards and complex spells. She could feel them. The details and fear laced into the long chants.

"Hermione Granger." She placed her hand on the door.

She was outside the door then the door was behind her. Under normal circumstances, she would exclaim with awe at the difficulty of the spells. This was not a normal circumstance. She was rooted in place by the head of the bed. Why was she standing here?

"Malfoy," she said uncertainly and looked at her enemy's face lost to another world. She saw the same pale blond hair, fair complexion, distinct cheekbones, and thin lips. Then she realized that it is futile to glare at a person when he is clearly unconscious.

Hermione arranged herself into a stiff position at a nearby chair. "Malfoy." For the second time, his name trembled out of her parched lips. She had not seen him since that night at the Whomping Willow.

"How are you, Malfoy?" Third time. She had not been well nor had she been bad. Everything was covered with a film of gray.

"Your daughter is beautiful, Malfoy" Fourth time. When she held Kayleigh in her arms, a calm wave of maternal instinct and affection warmed her skin.

"You would probably scoff and say of course she is in your most pompous ass voice… that is—if you were awake and bouncing, Malfoy." Fifth time. She could see the outraged anger swirling in his stone-gray eyes at her reference to the ferret incident if he was awake.

"Malfoy." Sixth time. "Why do you get to sleep and breath while everyone has to live and breath?" Hogwarts was once the emblem of knowledge and youthful joy. But after the final battle, the school grounds were strewn with blood and destructions. Trees were singed. Severed limbs scattered across the Quidditch field. Grasps of final breath mixed with the sounds of the whistling wind.

"You don't deserve this peace, Malfoy." Bitterness. Seventh time. Nightmares haunt her when the sky is dark and the mind silent. Remembrances buried in reality taunt her and chip her heart little by little each time.

Maybe she was trying to jerk his undeserving soul from the tranquil sleep. Maybe she was trying to say something to him that she did not even understand. Maybe she was just making up for all those times she didn't acknowledge him in the Malfoy dungeon.

"I think I am sick, Malfoy." Eighth time. His silence mocked her. She was here pouring out her buried thoughts to him yet he sleeps with no a care in the world. She was here with heavy shoulders and stray heart. She was here with no goals, no plans, and no future.

"Inside," she placed her hands on her chest, "Everything is just melting away, fading away, running away like a watercolor painting outside in the pouring rain. I want to run away like you… do you remember? You said if you had a choice, you would kill everyone and just start over.

"I was bleeding. Crusted blood clung to my skin and invaded my pores. My throat raw from screaming and you said you wanted to talk. Bastard. You thought I fainted from the pain but I heard the way your words bounced off the dirty stonewalls. Starting over. It is not that easy. Starting over is hard, Malfoy." Tenth time. His name danced on her tongue like red wine.

She sucked in a shaky breath.

"Isn't it ironic how your father destroyed me and your daughter is rebuilding me? I can't run away now because of her. She is like an anchor and I am stuck. Everyone runs. Ron runs to alcohol and work. Harry runs to Quidditch. Ginny runs to Harry. Alcohol. Cigarettes. Narcotics. Sex. Work. Love. Sleep. I can't run so I am here, remembering. Never forgetting. But I want to forget so badly and the guilt just burns and burns.

"Sometimes, I want someone to remember with me. To understand the feeling of someone else's blood coating your hands and smear across your face. To understand the vacillating feeling of wanting desperately to survive and to die. To talk about the people who are gone."

She watched his chest rise and drop rhythmically. Suddenly, she was attacked with the urge to touch to his face to make sure he is real and still here. She leaned closely. Her voice dropped in an eerie whisper.

"When George was killed, Fred wanted to died. It was in his eyes. Dead and barren. There will no longer be any mixed up with Fred and George. There will no longer be a laugh after another. There will no longer be twins. Fred sat in the Burrow in a daze. He didn't even do that when Molly died. We all thought Fred would die. Commit suicide. Die of heartbreak. Do something ridiculously foolish. But he didn't. Did you know what he said?

"He told me, he couldn't die. He couldn't hang himself and throw himself off a cliff. I asked why because I have wanted to die so many times. Every time I leave a raid, a battle, a mission, I wanted the blood to drown me but instead I am left with tears. Meaningless, useless tears. But I couldn't die… because of Harry, Ron, my parents, Dumbledore, Molly… because I was afraid and angry, hopeful and faithless… because I didn't really want to die…"

Her shameful confessions stumbled in fragments of thoughts.

"I was in between the dead and the living, wondering when I would fall off the balance. So I asked Fred. He told me about his promise. George made him promise that he won't die because of him. If he does, he would turn blue then polka dots and then a whole list of absurd colors and patterns… he said, 'George would know if I die because of him.'

"How can you turn someone blue when you are already dead? I wondered. I tried so hard flipping through memories. I wanted to laugh and cry hysterically but there would be far too inappropriate. Don't you think? No, you probably thought it would the perfect occasion to throw salt into the wound."

She breathed as if she was at the bottom of the Great Lake.

"But George knows how, Fred was so sure of it. And he turned and smiled at me; his baby blue eyes were revived. They almost… tw—twinkled." She choked.

"He said, 'I don't fancy being blue when I die. Legless _and_ blue is an unattractive combination.' That fool even wagged his damn eyebrows."

Her voice cracked into a million glittering pieces the way her mother's favorite vase with yellow daisies and baby swallows did when Death Eaters raided her parents' home.

Was she crying or was it raining inside? She couldn't tell.

The gray ashes of the dead blurred her image. The Forbidden Forest was once again burning before her brown eyes and the heat enveloped her whole being. The flames flickered and devoured the trees that once conjured frightening shadows. The cacophony of stubborn breaths faded away into a background din. Wind whipped her hair around her neck as an attempt to snuff out her life along the hundred and the thousands of empty gazes. Her eyes were dry until a gust of violent wind blew dust into them. She wondered vaguely who is in her eyes right now. A centaur. A giant. An elf. Fang. Hagrid. A Death Eater. An Auror. Remus. Snape. Flick. Molly. Percy. Goyle. The list went go but she had forgotten the names of the specks.

The nameless dead curled up to the dying sky. Her eyes watered reluctantly and wrung the last of her into those useless, forgetful tears.

As her vision cleared with noisy sniffles, the bleary image of Draco Malfoy reappeared.

This is the man she watched killed with ruthless grace. Unforgivable cruses slinked out of his lips naturally. This is the man whose foolish actions led to Dumbledore's downfall and the bleak beginning of war. He tore asunder the hopes and foggy illusions of an honorable and righteous war. This is the man who stood and watched as his comrades shred apart her sanity… and clumsily pieced it back together with soft soliloquies and awkward confessions. This is the man who is the father of a child she considered to be her daughter.

Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Malfoy Malfoy Malfoy Malfoy Malfoy MalfoyMalfoyMalfoyMalfoyMalfoyMalfoyMalfoyMalfoyMalfoyMalfoyDracoDracoDracoDracoDracoDracoDracoDracoDracoDracoDracoDraco

The chant trailed off in oblivion where the memories of shadowy ashes resided.

* * *

This is not as long because I really like where it ended. 

I do realize that it has been a long time. But there is always that pesky thing call life.

Review, please.


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